Flash sheet of a multicoloured butterfly heart above several black high heel shoes decorated with white flowers.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Butterfly heart and floral high heel shoes flash

Mixed · Flash

A sheet of illustrated tattoo designs showing a heart formed from small multicoloured butterflies and flowers at the top left. Below and to the right are several black high heel shoes with white floral detailing, drawn at varying sizes and angles. The heart uses colour while the shoes are rendered in black linework and white fills on a plain white background.

Heart Butterfly Flower

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The cobbler of Harrowfell had mended boots for drovers and stitched shrouds for the parish, and in forty years he had never once been asked for a shoe that could climb the broken stair of Coldmere Keep. So when Maud Tenby came down the hill with her mother's clogs under her arm and asked for heels as thin as a heron's leg, he laughed and told her the castle was no place for a girl in silk.

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She came back the next Monday with eggs and copper pennies, and he found he could not refuse her. He cut the leather black and stitched it with white thread that caught the light like frost. On each toe he worked a small flower from scraps of kid, and when the pair was done he set them on his bench and felt, absurdly, that they were looking at him. That evening Maud climbed to the keep in them, and the nettles on the courtyard stones lifted into butterflies, a whole cloud of them, red and gold and blue, and they followed her up the stair like a wedding party.

He went up after her the following evening and found the great hall open to the sky, moss growing on the hearth. Maud stood there in the shoes, not dancing, and above her the butterflies had gathered into the shape of a heart, bright as stained glass. "They only fit a woman who means to leave," she said, not unkindly. "You made them well, Mr Sayer."

When he came down at dawn, the shoes were on his bench again, polished and empty, and beside them lay a single white flower, still wet. Up on the hill a line of butterflies was going over the ridge towards the coast, and he never saw Maud Tenby again. He kept the flower in a tin for thirty years, and every time a customer asked for something delicate he gave them a little more heel than was sensible.